


Don't you listen to him

by wrenblack



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Play, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenblack/pseuds/wrenblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Landsmeet imminent and Arl Eamon's kingly expectations weighing heavily on his shoulders, Alistair is finding it difficult to sleep. To say the least. Fortunately for him his fellow Grey Warden is always there to lend council and comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't you listen to him

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written smut before. (Actually, I've never even written fan fiction before. I guess Dragon Age just inspires such loyalty. Or maybe it's Alistair who does that.) Anyway, please be kind. 
> 
> Thanks @anjanka for the Beta! You were immensely helpful!

No matter how he tried, Alistair simply couldn’t get comfortable; his eyes would not stay closed and his brain would not stay quiet. It seemed like sleep simply wasn’t going to happen this night. (Always the way when tomorrow is an important day, isn’t it?) He’d rather be going into battle with the Darkspawn horde than sitting the Landsmeet the next day. Which is honestly what he should be doing anyway, being a Grey Warden and all. It wasn’t a question of turning the tide on Loghain, he was pretty sure that between earning Queen Anora’s good grace and finding evidence of Loghain’s deal with the Tevinter slavers, their company would come out on top. If nothing else, his lover could be very persuasive. Victoria would  just _talk_ the nobles around.

 

What was driving him mad was Arl Eamon’s insistence that he, Alistair, be crowned king. Whatever the Arl said, he knew it had nothing to do with his quality of character or abilities on the battlefield. The man had only raised him to age 10; Eamon had no idea who Alistair actually was. No, it was all the accident of his birth. It seemed to matter little that he was only a royal bastard, just as long as the lineage of Calenhad continued to reign.

 

“He’d probably put a jar of blood on the throne if he could prove it was Theirin blood,” he said to the ceiling.

 

“That’s as may be,” said a soft clear voice in the dark, startling him, “but it wouldn’t look half so dashing as you wearing the crown.”

 

“Maker! Victoria love, don’t sneak up like that!”

 

“I have to sneak,” his fellow Warden said, pressing the door closed slowly behind her. “You told me we had to be discreet while we’re staying here. So I have discreetly and sneakily come to share your bed. Budge over.” She padded silently across the room and slid into the bed next to him. She burrowed under the blankets and into the crook of his neck, hugging his body to hers as though he were a security blanket.

 

“D’you think anyone saw you?” Even in a large estate like this, he knew how fast gossip could travel. And the last thing they needed at the Landsmeet were scandalous whispers.

 

“Definitely not. Rogue remember? Very very stealthy. Why? Worried someone is cataloguing the future King’s indiscretions?”

 

He could hear the teasing in her voice, feel her smiling against his neck, but still it bothered him to think that she, too, might have such plans for him. How many times must he protest this idea? How many different ways could a man say he did not want to be king? Alistair had spent his whole life accepting the duty thrust upon him, as a Templar and then a Grey Warden, having had very little choice in the course of his life. He would not succumb to someone else’s will in that way again, especially under so heavy a burden as ruling Fereldan.

 

“You too, my dear. Do you plan on marrying me off to Anora as well, to further legitimize my claim? Eamon would love that idea I’m sure.” He meant it to tease her in return, but somehow it came out clipped and bitter.

 

As was her way, she had a retort at the ready, “Oh now! There’s an idea. Who could stand against you both? She is very pretty after all - it could be so much worse!”

 

“Would that bother you very much?” He hoped this time she would hear his brittle tone.

 

Victoria leaned up on her elbow and looked at him, really looked at his face in the dark, and it seemed to dawn on her that for once in his life Alistair was not joking. For him these were very real possibilities and could actually dictate the course of his life. Which was terrifying. Something he’d been sure she would understand given that her own freedom of choice had been taken from her when Howe had her family killed.

 

She rested her hand on his cheek and said, “Yes my love. It would bother me very very much.” Then she leaned down and kissed him, soft and deep, and he felt the sigh in her lips against his as she did. It was a kiss that said, “I love you” just as surely as any words ever had.

 

She broke the kiss and laid her head on his chest and the tension that had been holding him evaporated. The brittle bitterness broke, and he chuckled.

 

“What? What’s funny?” she asked, pushing herself up to look at him.

 

“Mostly me. I’m quite ridiculous, you know?” She smiled at this, as if relieved to see the lightness return to him, and lay back down at his side. Banter was good; it meant everything would be alright.

 

After a moment when it seemed they might peacefully fall asleep, Alistar said, “Someone seems to have told Anora that I am planning to steal her throne.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“She has a nasty glare. Did anyone mention this wasn’t my idea? I think she’s a great queen. As far as I’m concerned she’s welcome to it.” He was just saying it to be sure it had been said, even if now was perhaps not the ideal moment. He’d told them again and again that he did _not_ want to rule, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever mentioned that he thought Anora _should_. And after all, he had better things to do - like being a Grey Warden and killing Darkspawn. He needed Victoria to know these things. She was the one who had a real chance of convincing the nobility to appoint a new ruler and get on with fighting The Blight. The only person he would ever be able to convince of anything was her.

 

“Honestly I think you’d be a great king, Alistair.” Victoria had her serious voice on, and he knew it was his own fault for pushing his luck. One would think that after a lifetime of putting his foot in his mouth, he would have learned when to just stop talking. Apparently not.

 

Begging her to tease him again and stop saying disturbing things like that as though she believed them he said, “Really? Whatever would give you that idea?”

 

“You have a kind heart and a strong sense of justice,” she said matter-of-factly. As though her logic was unassailable.

 

“Well it’s nice that _you_ think so.”

 

“Also, power makes men incredibly attractive. So there’s that.”

 

“I like the way you think sometimes. Of course I probably wouldn’t be all that attractive once the people lynched me. Unless maybe they thought I was too pretty to lynch.”

 

“Far too pretty to lynch.”

 

“What d’you think I should do? Go ahead and be king, just let it happen?” He was a little scared of her answer, knowing that if she really wanted this for him, he _would_ just let it happen.

 

She said, “You should do what you want to do,” and then after a pause, “Or we could just run off together instead.”

 

Laughing he said, “Good plan! We could go to Orlais, live in sin, and eat cake … until the Darkspawn finally catch up to us. Cursed Darkspawn!” Maker it was such a tempting idea! No duty to face, just Victoria and sin and cake. Alas, for a life that simple. “It’s just that everything I’ve heard about Queen Anora is that she’s the one who really ruled here, not Cailan. She’s smart, tough, determined. While I feel a bit like Cailin’s substitute. I think I’ll be better off against the Darkspawn.”

 

Victoria shifted so her body was fully pressed against his and began to gently caress his chest, over his heart. She was so tender and it made him realize he was brooding. Again. And this time with a beautiful woman in his arms! What was wrong with him?

 

Mimicking the Revered Mother as she’d always sounded during his days in the chantry he said, “Alright Alistair, enough whining.” And then in the deep voice of the Templar he never actually became, “Thank you Alistair that’s excellent advice, I’ll do my best.”

 

She chuckled, pinched his side and said, “Don’t you listen to him.”

 

“No no, it’s alright, the moment has passed. Time to face the music.” But she was still pinching him, digging her strong little fingers into his ribs, tickling him mercilessly. Well, he wasn’t about to stand by and let this woman’s attack go unanswered!

 

His right arm was already around her back, so with his free hand he grabbed her wrist and wrested one of her fiendish tickling hands away from him. He pushed her arm up over her head and used the motion to roll his body on top of hers, letting his full weight land on her stomach. Which earned him a _very_ pleasing little yelp. She wriggled against him, trying idly to free her trapped hand and pinned legs, while still tormenting his ribs with her dexterous fingers. Her struggle only encouraged him to respond in kind, shifting his weight to free his own trapped arm, he reached down for the spot he knew would win him the fight in one fell swoop. He grabbed her just above her left knee and squeezed a few times in rapid succession. This immediately had the desired effect, rendering her useless with giggling and twitching.

 

A particularly boisterous laugh reminded him of the lateness of the hour and the need for discretion. So he caught her mouth with his own to swallow her laughter, his hand letting go of her knee and coming up to the side of her face, and his tongue delved into her mouth to seek its companion. Suddenly her hands were no longer fighting for release or attack, but instead wrapping around his back to dig her blunt nails into his shoulder. The joy of the moment before seemed to fuel the passion of her lips as she crashed them into his.

 

She broke free of the kiss panting, still breathless from laughter. Fisting her hand in his hair, she pulled his head down to her neck, and his mouth sought her throat with urgency of lips and tongue. He let go of her wrist and his hand came down atop her breast. He rolled and pinched her pert nipple through the rough fabric of her over-large tunic and she arched up into his hand. Her already ragged breathing hitched with a small noise that made him crazy.

 

Alistair’s lips left her neck and trailed down the open collar of her tunic, anticipating the noises that his mouth around her nipple would elicit, but he growled in frustration finding that he could not tug the opening down enough to allow him access.

 

Her response was immediate. Pushing him back by his shoulders and freeing herself from the weight of him, she pulled the tunic up over her head and threw it off somewhere in the darkness. "Maker's breath but your tits are lovely." From his position straddling her, Alistair made to pin her once again fully intent on burying himself between her beautiful breasts, but she stayed him with a hand on his stomach shaking her head.

 

He growled again unhappy at being thwarted, but he did as bid. Victoria sat up to face him, pulled him close and clamped her mouth down on one of his hardened nipples, flicking over it with her tongue and biting every so slightly. Her own stiff nipples were pressed against his stomach. He hissed her name, his swelling cock now straining at his small clothes. She kissed and licked his chest, her teeth grazing the strong muscles, her hands wandering down the plane of his back to rest just under his waistband and grip his buttocks.

 

“You’re killing me, love,” he said, grinding his hardness against her so she would know just how much.

 

She looked up at him and smirked, “Good.” Then she threw her weight up and flipped him sideways onto his back. She slipped off the edge of the bed to kneel between his legs and ran her hands down his ass pulling off his smalls in one fluid stroke. She greeted the pale bead of pre-cum on his erection with a devilish smile and planted a lingering kiss on its head. "So damn pretty!"

 

Alistair trembled when she ran the flat of her tongue down his length and up the underside. He pushed up on his elbows to see her, moaning hoarsely as she took him into her mouth, one hand pumping his shaft. He could watch this all night, Victoria looking up at him with those big doe eyes as her lips slid over his cock and her tongue worked the head.

 

When her fingertips ghosted the sensitive spot behind his stones, his stomach tensed and he sat straight up. She smiled around him and lifted her head off his cock with a languid motion, sucking her cheeks in tightly. Locking eyes with him, a hand still wrapped tightly around his slick length, she put the little finger of her other hand into her mouth and pumped it in and out.

 

Anticipation of what he knew was coming next made his breath come in hard gasps. He found himself equal parts excited and anxious about how much power was in that little finger. “Woman, don’t tease me," his voice cracked slightly.

 

She quirked an eyebrow at him and pulled her finger out of her mouth with a wet pop. “You want this?" she asked waggling her finger.

 

He nodded and swallowed hard, "Yes."

 

With a sweet dimpled smile, Victoria lowered her head to gently suck one of his stones and push her little finger up into his ass. A bright sharp moment of pain and pleasure shot through him straight to his cock making it jump in her hand. “Ah! Fuh-huck.” She giggled then, and the vibrations against his sac made him shudder. Her other hand released his cock and came to rest on his belly, petting and soothing as she worked her finger in and out of him in little thrusts, deeper each time.

 

Once she was in as far as the second knuckle, she again took his cock in her mouth. She bobbed her head only twice, crooked her little finger inside him and he was finished. He cried out her name, grabbed her shoulder and bucked up as he came into her throat. She choked slightly with the force of it, and he could feel her swallow around him.

 

Alistair collapsed back, shaking and nearly senseless on the bed and Victoria's devious, smiling form came crawling over him. She sat straddling his stomach, hands on his chest. He could feel the damp fabric of her small clothes against his skin when she began to rock her hips. “Darling, " he said still catching his breath, "I do wish to do the gentlemanly thing for you, but I will need a moment to collect myself.”

 

"Let me know when you've regained your senses," she said, her right hand coming up to her breast to massage and squeeze. "I'll be right here." She twisted and pinched her nipple and ground her hips harder against him. The delightful hums and sighs escaping her began to rouse him.

 

He sat up a bit to watch so she leaned back and braced herself with her left hand on his thigh. Her right hand slid down her belly into her smalls and her eyes fluttered shut. Alistair was rapt by the increasingly frantic movement of her fingers and the way her breasts heaved with her heavy breathing. Suddenly she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes tightly and he knew she was getting close. It made him jealous that it was not he giving her that pleasure.

 

He grabbed her hips, startling her out of her revery, "My turn." Gripping her firmly by the rump, he leaned back and pulled her forward. He settled flat on his back and positioned her thighs next to his ears. He turned his head and planted an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh. He bit and sucked the flesh there enough to leave a mark that would remain in morning.

 

With Alistair's attentions focused just inches from where he knew she wanted them Victoria began to squirm, so he dug his fingers into her buttocks to hold her still. "Alistair," she said in rather a petulant voice, and he bit all the harder, relishing torturing her. "Baby, please," she whined, raking her fingers down into his hair and pulling slightly.

 

"Well since you ask so nicely," he let go of one of her cheeks and wrapped an arm around her thigh to pull her smalls to the side. He pressed his mouth to her slick cunt and buried his nose in her curls, pausing to enjoy the smell of her arousal. He slipped his tongue between her lips, and pressed it flat and firm as he licked up to her clit. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue and she gasped, "Maker yes!" her nails scraping his scalp. He licked her thus, sucking and teasing her nub with each pass, savoring the heady taste of her. His moans mixed with her own as he lapped at her.

 

He used his fingers to part her folds and penetrated her cunt with his tongue, his nose bumping and nudging her clit. Her mewls and moans became fully voiced cries, "ohs" and "ahs" and something that sounded vaguely like his name. Her noises, the taste of her, the way her hips tilted in rhythm with his ministrations, it all sent heat straight to his core. The louder she cried the harder his dick became.

 

Suckling her clit, he slid his large middle finger into her and bid her come hither. Victoria quickly obliged, coming hard, legs clamped down around his head and pussy clenching his finger. Her ecstatic scream was music to his ears, all worries of discretion tossed to the wind. As the aftershocks of her orgasm shuddered through her, she slumped forward, her only support his firm grasp on her waist.

 

He rolled out from under her and let her collapse face down on the rumpled blankets. The sheen of sweat on her back and the blissful expression on her face made him feel rather proud of himself. “You are so beautiful right now,” he said, stroking her back, “I just want to bend you over.” He surprised himself saying it so baldly, he typically preferred to use more poetic language when making love to Victoria. But at that moment, he just desperately wanted to fuck her.

 

She looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes and said, “So why don’t you?”

 

Alistair needed no more encouragement than that. He ripped her wet underthings down her legs and flung them away with uncharacteristic violence, and then ... she giggled. It gave him a moment of pause, “What?”

 

“It’s wonderful how impatient you are,” she said, arching her back and lifting her buttocks invitingly. “So am I.”

 

He grabbed her hips, pushed her legs further apart with his knee and positioned himself behind her. With a hand he guided his renewed erection toward her opening, running the head up and down to lubricate it in her juices. And then he dove into her, hilting himself fully in one urgent thrust. Unprepared for the force of his hips slamming against her ass, she collapsed forward and he had to pull her back up by the waist. She hardly had time to brace herself on her forearms before he drew back and slammed into her again. “Fuck! Alistair!”.

 

Maker she felt so good, he’d nearly exploded the moment he was inside her. He was fighting to maintain his concentration, pumping slow and heavy. “You. Are. So. Tight,” he managed to say, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. Her white-knuckled grasp on the bed sheets barely keeping her steady as she rocked back into his rhythm.

 

“Faster, ahh-Al. Faster,” she gasped. He didn’t want to finish too soon, but he could not disobey such a request. He picked up the pace, his control holding but wavering, pulling her against him just as fiercely as he pushed into her.  "Oh yes," Victoria whimpered. She let her head and shoulders drop, her left cheek pressed into the bed. Her right hand came up to her sex and she fingered and teased her clit frantically.

 

He became dimly aware that she was saying something, begging him, more faster deeper more. The needy whine in her voice finally broke his control. He fucked into her hard and fast then, and her legs gave out with the force of it. She collapsed fully under him but he caught his weight on his hands to keep from crushing her. Yet his pace never slackened, his thrusts became more and more erratic, driving her into the mattress.

 

They were both grunting and panting harshly and for a time their breathing and the slap of skin on skin were the only sounds in the room. Then Victoria began to keen, her body shaking, her cunt pulsing around him. Alistair planted a kiss on the nape of her neck and said thickly, “Come for me baby,” his next deep thrust hitting her right _there_. She came apart then, her body shuddering, fingers grasping at the sheets, her incoherent scream only partially muffled by the mattress. The way her muscles clenched as she orgasmed holding his cock so tightly, undid him. His hips stuttered against her hold and with a shout he spent himself utterly inside her.

 

His arms gave out and his body crumpled onto her back, a whumph of air leaving her lungs under his weight. "Mmmmm. I think I’ll just sleep here,” he said, kissing her behind the ear.

 

Apparently having trouble catching her breath she said, “Yes, wonderful idea. And awaken to find you’ve crushed the woman you love to death in the night.”

 

He nuzzled her shoulder and neck, doing his best to be adorable. "So sleepy. So comfortable."

 

"Alright," she said, her voice heavy with the pressure of his body, "I'll suffocate here and you can negotiate with the nobles all by your lonesome."

 

"Ugh." He rolled off of her with a grunt, unsure if the deflation he suddenly felt came as a result of slipping out of her or remembering the morning to come. He threw an arm over his face, "I hope Eamon doesn’t expect me to give a speech. Maker he probably does, doesn’t he? Awwww."

 

Victoria reached out to pull his arm from over his eyes and wrap it around her as she spooned up into him. He nestled his face into her hair and she tucked her rump against his belly. "Darling," she said, "I've already agreed to support Anora at the Landsmeet."

 

He squeezed her tightly, "You did?"

 

"Of course! I could lie and say I did it because it was the wisest diplomatic move, but in truth I did it for you. I know you don't want to be king and I’d rather make you happy if I can manage it. So let's throw her to the nobles and save ourselves."

 

Alistair closed his eyes and breathed deep the smell of her hair and skin. Maker he loved this woman. “The Landsmeet may not listen to you and Arl Eamon would go right back into a coma if you told him, but me? I’m relieved.” He paused for a moment, contemplating the full weight of the task at hand. “I guess all we need to do is stop her father taking the throne first, right? Oh, how hard could it be? He’s just a hero and Tyrn with a bigger army. Us? We’ve got spirit.”

 

“And a golem. I’ll just ask Shale to stand outside the doors and hold them shut so Loghain can’t escape.”

 

“If he tries, she’ll just smush him. She does so love to smush people. I’m sure she’d be happy to do it.” If he was totally honest with himself, Alistair did enjoy picturing that encounter. He decided he wouldn’t hate it if the day ended up going that way.

 

Victoria chuckled, “That’s the plan sorted then. I’ll talk too much, you try to look as un-kingly as possible, and if all else fails - Shale smushes. We best get some sleep, though, I’d rather not _have_ to resort to smushing our enemies.”

  
Alistair smiled and kissed her shoulder one more time before settling in, “Right you are. We have to convince everyone there are monsters that need fighting. Who would’ve thought?”


End file.
